Hunter's Woods Writing Prompts

   You might expect that Sophie, trickster that she is, doesn't care much for the truth. After all, part of her job is to tell (or rather, show) people what they want to hear (or see, as it were). She benefits greatly from appealing to people's love of cute things and performance, and it would be easy to expect that she would want others to offer the same sorts of performances to her.
   But it's not quite that simple. For in Sophie's mind, there's a difference between putting on an act and lying. White lies to spare someone's feelings, putting on a show to beg for food, prettying oneself up to appeal to the masses... those are all the same to her, harmless little performances to keep oneself and one's companions safe, healthy, fed, and happy. But lying, really lying? Lying is different. Lying comes at a cost, puts others in danger. And no matter the intentions behind it, those lies are not okay.
   She knew the difference all too well.

---

   She remembered when she was a kitten, the first time she'd ever gotten her own food. There had been several of them then, out on the wharves, all trying to survive, and all left to fend for themselves - Both her mother and her siblings, and other families of cats, too, all trying to get by.
   She was a decent hunter for her age. Nothing like her siblings, but not so bad that she was doing more harm than good to keep around. But more than being a hunter, she was observant and clever. While her siblings and mother caught the rodents and birds that loved to stay on the docks, she watched, and she found patterns. Patterns of gulls flocking and squawking as the boats pulled into port, swooping down as the humans hauled their wares off the ships, big containers of who knew what.
   Sophie knew what. There was only one thing seagulls dove and screeched like that for: Food.
   And while she joined her family in the hunt, it wasn't her focus. Instead, she learned. For each day, the gulls and their boats would arrive around the same time, displayed on the little clock on the sign of the bank across the street from her wharf. And each day, more often than not, the humans would toss a little something out into the salty waves behind them, which all the gulls dove for and fought over while they hauled their wares off their ships. A distraction, so that they could bring their goods onto land.
   So, then, it was obvious. They had enough, more than enough, to let a bit of it go. And she had the sense to know that humans, for the whole, liked animals like her and her family - Perhaps not all animals, and perhaps not all the time or in all circumstances. But on the whole humans liked them. And she could take advantage of that.
   And so it was that one day, she awoke early, before the rest of her family. She slipped away while they slept, groomed her fur to a silky sheen, sat by the docks, and waited. And a few hours later, the fruits of her labors were clear in the fish she presented to her mother, sisters, and brothers. She was proud.
   And when her mother asked her where she'd gotten the meal? Her answer was simple: "Oh, I just found it."

---

   Life continued like this for some months. Arguably, things were even getting better for them - Some of the other cats had dispersed, leaving for one reason or another, and taking their competition with them and leaving more prey for the rest of them. Her siblings had grown to be increasingly adept hunters, and the fish that Sophie hauled back seemed to get bigger by the day. All was well.
   ...Though Sophie had to admit, she had some concerns. Mainly about why the other cats were leaving even still, when there was more prey for them than ever. But when she finally questioned this after dragging in the catch of the day, the others seemed unconcerned.
   "Maybe they saw your begging shtick and decided to try it for themselves," one of her brothers joked.
   "Yeah, they probably went off to find some other pier," a sister agreed. "One where they don't have to compete with you over the seafood."
   "Ha, maybe they even started working for the humans!" her other brother chimed in. "The humans hate rats and mice and stuff, right? Like, how they'll eat all their food and chew holes in their stuff and nest just about anywhere? Maybe the humans hired them to take care of the ones on their boats!"
   "Ooh, I wonder if they get paid in fish..." pondered her other sister.
   "Well," said their mother, "whatever the cause or reason, it's good for us. More meals for us. And on that topic, let's eat!"
   And when it was clear her concerns were unassuaged, still wrapping up in her mind, her mother nudged her and gestured to the fish. "Don't worry about it, Sophie. Now, eat."

---

   It got harder, over time, to convince the fishermen to toss out the small fry to her. It was hard to say why, exactly. Perhaps they had gotten used to her being there, and were being swayed less and less by her cute looks, charmed less and less by her sweet meows. Maybe they were catching fish that were too big and too valuable to just toss out for her. Perhaps it was simply a dry season. She couldn't be sure of the exact reasoning.
   Ultimately, though, did it really matter? She was struggling to provide for herself and her family. That was all it really came down to. Who could say why? Who would care? It didn't really make a difference. But it was easier not to stress about it, easier not to pile her concerns about this on top of her concerns about the disappearing cats. So she stayed quiet and persistent. Even when it came to traveling down the street to other docks to beg for fish from other humans, she simply accepted it as a part of her job.
   And besides, she needed to do this. Because not only were the other cats vanishing, but at this point the rodents were becoming harder to come by as well. It was strange, and it worried her in spite of her best efforts, perhaps even more than the other cats' disappearances. There were possible explanations for those, her family had brought them up themselves. But the rats and mice disappearing? By all accounts, from what she could tell, it didn't make sense. They were losing their predators as the felines left - By all means, they should have been experiencing a population boom. Instead, they seemed to be declining alongside the very creatures that hunted them.
   She tried not to think too much about it, tried instead to simply focus on begging meals off of whatever humans were hauling up their catches without considering too much how this was getting harder, how cats were disappearing, how they were seemingly taking their prey with them. Attempted to, as her mother had insisted, not worry about it. It might not be as easy as it once was, but she was getting food, and she and her family were staying fed. And they were happy not to question her longer days so long at they had food in their bellies at the end of the day.
   She was still able to provide for herself and for them. That was the most important thing.

---

   And then one of her brothers vanished with them.
   At this point, Sophie's concerns were greater than ever, and even her siblings' usual remarks seemed more... hollow than before. As though they could no longer believe their own words, and were merely spouting them off as coping mechanisms.
   "I mean, he did say the other cats might have moved on to some other wharves to try begging fish from other humans," one of the sisters commented when the topic was brought up. "Maybe he's off doing that, since he knows each person only has so much to go around?"
   "Yeah," concurred her remaining brother, a forced half-grin on his face as he spoke, "he's probably out there getting the good stuff, like cod and tuna."
   "Maybe even lobster!" chimed her other sister. And then, as if to change the topic, "Mmm... humans like lobster, right? They make a big deal out of it?"
   "Oh, yeah, for sure. They have whole boats dedicated to 'em!" her brother declared. "I mean, Sophie brings in all sorts of different fish from her humans, right? Like, even before she started going out to the other piers. But lobster, I mean, I've seen them pull lobster off those boats, and it's all lobster."
   "Oh, lobster is definitely a popular one," agreed their mother. "You should see it in the height of the summer, they set up carts and sell food on the streets, and I may not know exactly how their money works, but the lobster always has numbers listed that are much more than the other foods they sell, so I figure it must be a big deal."
   Sophie's ears drooped. "That might be true, but... I mean, aren't you concerned at all? I mean, he's just... gone." Her tail twitched. "Didn't even say goodbye, don't you think that's weird? Like, I would think he would at least say something..."
   Her mother shrugged. "All children leave home eventually," she said. And her voice was calm, more calm than any of her children's. "I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about. He's doing well for himself, I'm sure. Why don't you just worry about keeping yourself and the rest of us fed?"
   "...Yes, Mother."

---

   After a while, some of the other cats had begun to follow her lead. Not her siblings, or even her mother, but the other cats of the wharf, the ones who had seen her carry back seafood for her family. They took to the piers as well.
   They all eventually disappeared, for the most part. She wasn't sure what happened to them at first. Even when the time came that she could stay no longer, she still couldn't be entirely sure of all of their fates. Some of them came back with their prized seafood and then slunk off in the night, never to be seen again. Others left to beg for food and disappeared without a trace, never even managing to bring their hauls back to the wharf. She wasn't quite sure whether this was by choice or otherwise
   She saw one of them get carried off by a human, once, she was pretty sure. He had hissed and spat and screamed for them to let him go, not that they could understand him. She didn't stick around to watch what happened after that, but she heard a car driving away as she hid beneath the boards of the pier. Not all of them had gotten dragged off by those people, she was sure of that by the time she left, but she hoped that the ones who did ended up better off.
   And I mean, they probably were, if she was being honest. There were downsides, of course, but humans were good to animals like cats, for the most part. Perhaps they were lucky, and were brought somewhere with fresh food and water. Maybe they found humans to care for them as part of their family. They did that sometimes, humans. She'd seen cats in the windows of buildings occasionally, not working or hunting for themselves, but merely watching her as she went about her days. They didn't really speak to her, and she was too busy with her work to strike up conversation herself, but they seemed well off, with neat coats and bellies full of food.
   Still, whatever the outcome was, she wanted to avoid that part leading up to it. Being dragged off against her will like that... and there were no guarantees the end result would be so pleasant as those felines sitting comfortably in the windows. So eventually, she stole a loop of fabric she found beneath the balcony of one of those human cats' homes and wiggled into it herself. It was awkward and uncomfortable to wear at first, and didn't quite fit her properly, a bit too loose, but the cats in the buildings wore them, and so she would too. A mark of ownership... or the illusion of it while it was around her neck, at least. It would keep her safe from those humans in their cars.
   It wouldn't protect her from the alternative that she would soon discover, but it was something.

---

   When they finally found it, it was tucked in a corner beneath the wood where the land ended and the wharf began. And none of them were quite sure how to respond, all too mixed on what they could do.
   "Well, we need to tell Mom," one of her sisters had said immediately.
   And of course, she was right, wasn't she? It was only common sense that she be made aware of the situation. The others, too, the ones who were still there, for even if they were competitors, this was a matter of safety.
   Except...
   "I wonder if she already knows," her other sister said. "I mean, whenever Sophie brought anything up..." The cat glanced at her sister, then looked away, ears drooping. "I mean, it was one thing that none of us were worried when it wasn't one of us, but-"
   None of us? I was worried, Sophie thought, but she said nothing.
   "There's no way she already knows," her brother interrupted. "If she knew, then she would have said something. And... he'd still be here. Or she would have at least said something after. I-If she knew."
   "Maybe she's in denial," said the sister. "Maybe... she thought she was protecting us? Trying to keep us from freaking out and panicking?"
   "Well, if that's the case, that didn't exactly work, because I'm-" The first sister sat back on her haunches and put her front paws together. "-this close to having a breakdown right now!"
   "Okay, okay, okay," Sophie said, running a paw across her face. "Okay." She paused, trying to find the words. "Okay. So."
   The other cats looked at her expectantly, and she hesitated a bit. This was... simultaneously a lot to take in, and not nearly as surprising as she wished it was.
   "So," she began again. "We need to let everyone know. They might not all believe us, they might think we're just trying to drive them away so we can keep all the prey to ourselves, but we have to at least try to make sure everyone is aware of it. And that includes our mother, whether she... lied about it... or not." She took a deep breath and mumbled to herself, "Oh, god..."
   "Okay, and then?" asked her brother. "I mean, they need to know, for sure, but just telling everyone about it isn't going to solve the problem of the humans putting out bait."
   "Maybe they don't know what they're doing?" suggested one sister. "I mean, Sophie's the only one who really shows herself to people, maybe they don't realize we're here? They might think she's just a pet or something. She's got that collar, after all."
   "Yeah, okay, what does that change? Whether she's a pet or not-"
   "I mean, maybe we could tell them that we're here! Or, um, show them? And-"
   "And what, they're just gonna stop poisoning the rats?" snarked the other sister. "They hate rats, they hate mice, I've seen some of them throw rocks at the pigeons. They're gonna want them gone no matter what, and let's be honest, it's a lot more efficient to put out food they'll eat that'll kill any of 'em that puts it in their mouths than it is for us to keep their population under control. Because we can't kill all of them, because if we kill all of them, we don't have any food. And they know that."
   "But-"
   "No buts! If they find out about us, at best they're gonna drag us off somewhere else. Probably a lot worse."
   "I mean, it might not be a lot worse. I see cats living with humans pretty often, and they do give us food," Sophie remarked, and her sister glared at her. "But... yeah. I'd rather not risk it," she agreed with a sigh.
   "So what do we do?" asked their brother.
   Sophie was quiet. "...We leave," she said. "Whether everyone else does or not... it doesn't matter."
   Her brother stared at her, mouth agape. "It doesn't matter? What, it doesn't matter if they stay here and die?!"
   "That's not what I'm saying!" Sophie snapped. "But... we can only do so much. And if that means we have to choose between staying here and risking our lives to try and convince everyone - People who might not even believe us - that they're taking their lives in their own paws by staying here too, or getting out while we can? I don't know about you, but I don't want to find out what being poisoned to death feels like. If they decide that they do, that's on them, but I'm not gonna become a martyr without a cause."
   The group was silent. None of them wanted this.
   But Sophie was right. Blunt as it might be, she was being realistic - If they stayed, whatever the reason may be, they would die, just like their brother.
   And they wanted... No. They needed to live.

---

   "I'm leaving, Mother." Sophie said. "You should, too. Unless you want to be poisoned to death like your son."
   That was the last thing she told her. It was straightforward, with no sugary coating to make it go down easier. Because she had tried that. She had tried it in all the days leading up to this, as her brother and sisters left themselves. She had been the last to go, insisting that she would be the one to try and get their mother to understand, to leave this place behind as well. For she was able to feed herself safely still, even if it was no longer as easy as it once had been.
   How many times had she tried to be nice about it? How many times had she said something like, "I think we should go see the world," or, "I've heard really good things about the wharf down the street," and even outright lies of, "I overheard some of the other cats talking about a cat down the street who looks just like my brother, we should go see if it's really him!"
   There was no convincing her through those means. Each time she had brushed her suggestions off, or told her something along the lines of, "Oh, really? Well, good, you're out and about on the docks all day, you should see if you can find him." Not anything about going with her in these efforts.
   Even when she became less subtle about it, the older feline hadn't really paid much mind. Questions of whether one could get sick from eating something that was diseased or dying were answered calmly and evenly. As though she couldn't understand the implications... or was unwilling to acknowledge them.
   So, then, blunt and brutal honestly it would have to be. And maybe even this wouldn't work. But it was the truth. A truth different from the reality of her status as a feral cat, which she hid with that collar, and different from her putting on a cute face to beg for meals from whoever she could get to toss some food out to her. This was a truth that needed to be revealed. A truth that, if it was known, as her sister suspected, should have been told much, much sooner.
   If their mother didn't leave, the humans would make her. Intentionally or otherwise... and non-lethally or otherwise.
   She hoped for the non-lethal option for the latter. Of course she hoped for that - What sort of cat was she if she didn't want her family to live?
   But that wasn't her decision, was it? Not anymore.
   And so it was that she turned away and made to leave her home behind. And her mother with it, if that was the choice she made.
   If nothing else, she knew the truth, just as the other cats of the wharf did, whether they believed her or not. If they chose to stay, at least they knew the risks they were taking. At least they knew now what her lost brother and the other disappeared cats had never gotten the chance to find out.
   Her mother didn't answer her. Sophie turned her head to look back at her one last time.
   "Goodbye, Mom."
   And she left.